The Blood Stained White Rose
by Arrixam
Summary: The world's bloodiest conqueror, forcing history to rewrite her existence, enters the world once more with a vengeance. She plans to stay no matter the cost. No matter what. But as Shirou joins her in the Fifth Heaven's Feel, scales are shed and true beauty is revealed. Just why does she fight so eagerly? He will find out who is this Lucia Artorius Castus.
1. Chapter 1

A smile crept up her face the moment she felt the familiar sensation. Once in a while she would be pulled out of her duties thanks to the meddling of the mortals. It was at these moments was she liberated from the shackles of the one she sold herself to. Even if they were blinks of an eye compared to the total time she had spent in servitude, these rare moments were always worthwhile.

She felt herself transform. She was returning to her mortal form to engage in mortal affairs. How long had it been since she's walked the earth in bone and flesh? How long had it been since she held steel in her grip? How long had it been since she felt the warmth of fresh blood splattering all over her face?

The ever annoying interference of gravity pulled her out of her musings. Mass and weight were always awkward to transition into. She felt her heart beat. Felt her muscles coil and unwind with every breath she took. Felt the teasing of soft cotton and silk under her dense silver plating. The erotic stench of blood in the air sent shivers through her.

Her eyes peered down onto the one who brought her through the cosmos. A pathetic excuse for a boy sitting on his rear, panting, sweating, and bleeding. How shameful. Though he had cuts from a blade, her experienced eyes could see they were nicks from him fleeing rather than fighting. His eyes were… baffled. Awestruck in speechlessness at what stood before him just as much as he was confused.

Nevertheless, she smiled. The blood was fresh. He had been running from something. And the smell in the air meant the danger was not gone just yet. Outside the workshop, she could feel the torrent of power waiting for her to come out. She will gladly accept its challenge.

But first...

"I have come forth in hearing your summons! I ask, are you my Master?"

*Scene*

Emiya Shirou didn't know what to say when asked that question. His mind still wasn't in the right place. Oh he recognized magecraft when he saw it— but he never knew he had a magic circle in his shed. He had been in this place so many times ever since he was so young and had seen every corner but never seen any sort of magical instrument. His so-called workshop was nothing more than a mundane tool shed where he practiced his craft.

Appearing out of the magic circle was an immaculate beauty unlike any other he had ever seen. She was flawless with a face as smooth as porcelain, green eyes as clear and sparkly as an emerald's, and hair tied into a tail with a single stray at her forehead as though each strand was woven out of gold itself. She was a head shorter than he was, but her presence alone made him realize the greatness she held was leagues beyond anything he could achieve.

She was donned in silver and white armor plating with painted red thorns etched into the metal. Her shoulders, arms, and right leg were exposed to reveal her fair skin. Of similar metal, a pair of gauntlets covered her hands up to her elbows and grieve-sabatons covered her feet up to her knees. Over her shoulders was a long white cape that flowed down to the back of her knees. By the angle she was turned, Shirou could tell without the cape her entire back would be exposed. Which meant her metal plating only protected her front.

She did not have a smile of pleasantry. She was not happy. Shirou could even say she was not a nice person in any way. This girl bore a smile like one would tolerate a cancer. It was twisted, corrupted, sickening, and eating away at her beauty. Her eyes shone with that of a predator. She was hungry and saw him as his next meal. But at the same time he saw disappointment as he was hardly anything of worth to her.

"…Master?" Shirou questioned. At that moment, a burning sensation on his right hand consumed his thoughts. Looking down to see what could have possibly be burning him were a series of crimson marks that were being etched onto his skin. They glowed as they appeared until the mark was finished. A crimson sword with wings remained at the back of his hand.

"It would seem that is the answer in itself," her smile curled to one side of her face. Like a Cheshire, her eyes narrowed in perverse glee as she looked towards the doorway. "Now wait here, little one. I shall make all your problems go away."

She dismissed him like he was a child. Perhaps it was just a front. Because as soon as she turned away and marched out the door, he saw that twisted smile consume her face. It was like she was the child instead.

He wanted to stop her. He wanted to tell her the blue man was unlike anything he had ever seen. But yet, somehow, that smile stopped him from moving against her.

*Scene*

Lancer twirled his spear as he patiently waited for the newly summoned Servant to come out of the shed. It was in his judgment to kill the kid before summoning the Servant. That way he wouldn't have to deal with the Seventh. But of course not. His _Master _told him to wait and see what the boy would summon. So, Lancer waited against his better judgment.

His eyes narrowed at the ever familiar miasma bombarding his senses. But he had never met anything with such a strong signature. It sickened him. Never before had _felt _a wave of blood.

It burned his nose. He could _see _an aura of red surrounding her. Hell, he could reach a hand out and grasp at it if he so tried.

This aura of blood was so thick the new Servant was wearing it like she would her skin. It moved with her, becoming one with her, obeying her command without a word. If Lancer were a lesser man the miasma would have made him drown in his own spit.

Instead he couldn't help but smile.

This blonde beauty walked out of the boy's shed with the grace of nobility, but her _presence _was that of a true hunter. She was elegant, but she was deadly. She was smooth, but brutal. She was stalwart, but fierce. Such contradictions made her dangerous, unpredictable, and Lancer wouldn't have it any other way.

They both eyed the other, fully inspecting everything they had to offer onto the field. Just as Lancer's smile grew, so did hers. All was quiet in the night as they stood there, continuing to eye the other like candy. Two hunters had met and only one will live.

"The kid sure did summon something interesting," Lancer twirled his spear before fixing himself into a battle stance. "Try to not disappoint, Seventh."

She snickered, a tone that rang like chimes but resonated like grinding metals. Beautiful, but tainted. "I thought I caught the scent of _wet dog._ Try to not die, pup."

If she could throw in insults at her own leisure, then surely it meant she was ready to die. If not, then Lancer would have been greatly disappointed. All it would mean was all the huff and puff was just for show. Even as he had prepared to fight, she continued to stand there completely unguarded. She waved off the declaration of battle as nothing as though she couldn't take a hint. So be it. He fired off the ground with his spear going in for a strike at her exposed abdomen.

"I accept your challenge!" she roared, thrilled as her face contorted in pleasure as her smile broke her face in two.

Two streaks of red clashed. Lancer's attack had been parried by a crimson gladius suddenly appearing in her hand. Instinct took over as his body moved before his mind could. His red spear twirled and pushed aside a crimson mace appearing in her other hand. Using the force brought by the mace to his advantage, he twirled his spear around to cut open her jugular. She lifted her arm slightly; a bladed tonfa intercepted the tip, but Lancer saw how it replaced the gladius that was previously in her grip.

The Seventh Servant swung her other arm around, replacing the mace with a similar crimson bladed tonfa. Immediately Lancer knew something was wrong. Such batons were used for close combat; with Lancer keeping a distance he couldn't help but wonder why she was trying to cut open wind.

He realized why when the blade extended mid-swing.

Lancer was able to dodge with but a nick to his chin. He was both annoyed and impressed; she had done more to him in a few seconds than what that Archer had attempted.

She took a step forward to close the gap between them. Both tonfa blades were extending to become long enough to reach the floor. In a flurry of swings, she brought both weapons around in a whiplash. Her control over them was outstanding as she knew when to twirl them between offensive and defensive grips. Lancer was easily able to parry each one while giving his own counters as he took a step back to keep his distance. But as he took that step, she stepped forward to close it.

Lancer's eyes narrowed. She was very experienced against opponents with polearms.

She swung both tonfas at the same time to have him block with the shaft of his spear. She had done so by having the shafts pressed against her forearms and using her entire body mass to push against him. The force made him pause his counter for but half a second. It was half a second she used to spin around, bring both her arms together…

The tonfas were replaced with a warhammer made of the same crimson metal. Lancer leapt away as the horizontal swing sent a ripple of air with her might. Had he not realized sooner, a large chunk of him would have splattered all over the lawn.

Mid-way through her swing, impossibly, the Seventh Servant turned it into a stabbing motion. The amount of force she put into the swing as well as the weight of the hammer should have had her complete the swing or at least slow it down with much effort. There was no sign of a struggle, no sign of shifting her footing, or of changing her grip. Instead, almost like she defied the laws of force, she was able to turn a horizontal swing into a piercing attack.

Lancer brought his spear up just in time to stop the crimson halberd from advancing any further. The axe side was locked into his shaft but it didn't stop the pike tip of the halberd from digging into his shoulder.

Wait. Halberd?

The blonde Servant twisted her wrist and swung the halberd diagonally. Lancer was able to push it away but the pike tip had successfully torn the wound a little wider. But it was nothing he couldn't handle.

Lancer charged, using his great Agility to cross the distance and get inside her guard before she could prepare a proper defense with that halberd. Bringing both hands close to the tip of his spear, he put most of his strength into a close-range stab.

The halberd dissolved into mist. His eyes widened. She crossed both arms just before he could finish his attack.

A crimson great shield blocked his path. His spear bouncing off the surface.

Like the shield had been made out of liquid, a crimson fist broke through and struck at his underjaw. He had no choice but to disengage.

Wiping the blood off, Lancer's smile was replaced with a thin line of annoyance. Here he thought he was going to fight against a good Heroic Spirit who was just as skilled as he was in combat. True she was skilled; in fact, she was able to adapt to any situation with ease. But there was no dance as when two great warriors clashed. The song of battle would not play. She moved to kill— not to defeat, not to win, not even to not lose, but to only kill.

She was worse than that Archer.

Lancer was fighting nothing more than a coward.

Her Noble Phantasm was a fickle one. It could change without warning and its variety was possibly endless. But at the least he found out what that strong scent of blood was. Once more the crimson metal that was a great shield and what overlapped her gauntlet turned into mist, dissipating into the air. She stood in her silver and white armor without a weapon to hold, but he knew with but a thought something— _anything— _would come to her side.

Simply, her Noble Phantasm was blood. Blood in which can take the shape and form of whatever she needed and was more than durable enough to block his own Noble Phantasm.

She was dangerous.

She was unpredictable.

She was a stain on everything he believed in. This was no Heroic Spirit. This was nothing more than an overqualified _murderer._

Likewise, her smile had faded into a thin line. She was not annoyed or frustrated like he was. If anything, she expressed something akin to… disappointment.

It was at this time her Master decided to come out of hiding. He had been watching their engagement for a while, but only found it to be safe enough at this moment to step out of the doorway.

"…Why do you not fight with your all?" she questioned. Her ruthless, bloodthirsty demeanor was gone, replaced with something akin to curiosity. "Is your will to live that weak?"

Lancer scowled at that. "Believe me, I would _love _to give you my all. But my Master is a bit of a coward and only wants me to inspect the competition."

Something he said peaked her interest. A brow was raised and a small grin pressed her lips. "Hoh? So you are under orders not to fully engage? Only to test my limits? A sound tactic— to investigate the potentials of the enemy and see which ones offer the biggest threat!" Her grin grew to a wide smile. "I respect your superior, coward or no."

"Of course someone like you would say that…" Lancer gritted under his breath.

She gave no sign if she had heard him. Instead, she continued with her smile growing more and more until it started to eat away at her beauty. "What say if... perhaps… I were to press you to the brink of death? To strike at you with my all, to force you into a corner and bring about your primal instincts, to force you to either flee with urine running down your leg or fight until your flesh is sanded down to your bones?!"

Lancer prepared himself. Her eyes became glazed as she was no longer focused on him but rather some sort of fantasy only she could see. Her body didn't tense for battle like a normal warrior's would. It shivered— shivered in anticipating pleasure.

"Sounds fun."

That was his only warning as the blonde Servant _moved. _His eyes widened in shock as he brought his spear up to block the swing of a claymore pushing him back. Were it any other spear it would have broken in half. But even as it protected him from being split in two, he felt his bones creak by the sheer force of her strength. She put her all into that swing, overcoming his own as she continued to sprint forward, pushing him back without control.

She giggled.

Splitting the claymore into two different serrated swords, she sent a flurry of swings his way without her previous grace. Lancer was caught in the first strike as he was forced to disengage from the push and bring his spear to only parry one of the blades. The swords were not made to kill, but to tear as much flesh as possible. One of them clipping his forearm and _peal _his skin hurt like a bitch.

He grunted in both pain and frustration as she pursued him. He brought his spear up to send his own barrage of stabs, attempting to keep his distance. His spear moved in a blur as he sent ten stabs per second. But despite his efforts, she was _faster. _The serrated blades became xaolin hookblades which she used to both parry and trap his spear. Their ridiculous reach carved into his body every time he tried to push her away. His continuous retreat was the only thing keeping her from landing a critical blow.

Suddenly one hookblade became a large scythe while the second sword became a long link of chains attached to said scythe. Now the distance he had successfully gathered was becoming his disadvantage. The scythe flew around his blind spots— around him, at the edge of his vision, behind him. With every second she sent the scythe at every angle imaginable, sometimes changing the trajectory midway to throw him off. She spun it around her to gather speed, pulling and releasing the chains to come at him in unpredictable ways.

Despite the destructive potential the chained scythe had, the blonde Servant was using the combination weapons without a shred of property damage. Her only target was Lancer and the landscape surrounding them was completely untouched.

She pulled the chains for the scythe to swing back at his left flank while charging forward with a new weapon in her other grip: a crimson spear of _exact _design to his own.

Now, Lancer was enraged.

He ducked under the scythe coming from behind. It sailed past him and dissolved into a wall of red mist, concealing the Seventh Servant's location temporarily. Without a doubt she will come at a different location to throw him off. However, it won't matter…

*Scene*

She leapt high into the air, using the spear Dux Legionum took the form of to vault. She spun, twisting and adjusting her center of gravity to her advantage in order to bring about the maximum power in her next strike. She knew what sort of spear this blue entity held. By the feel of it in her fingers she knew it was an anti-infantry weapon which could also be used as a javelin. In fact, its greatest potential lied within long-distance throws. A marvelous weapon in close combat, but far more deadly against invaders climbing fortress walls or charging cavalry men. And by the unique design of this barbed spear in particular, it was more than powerful enough to slay monsters in which mortal weapons could not.

Were she an actual warrior, one who enjoyed comparing who had the bigger _shtick, _she would have found poetic irony in using a reflecting weapon against this blue spirit. But that would imply she actually enjoyed fighting— that she enjoyed facing her greatest fear like some sort of masochistic _idiot._ This would just be another weapon design Dux Legionum could mimic. But another tool for her to use in her arsenal.

But another article to improve her life expectancy.

At the climax of preparation, she gave it her all as she spun her body around one last time to launch the crimson spear at her target. Her phenomenal strength and superior speed would not allow her opponent to easily dodge. Should he see her and prepare any proper defense, she will plow through. Should he attempt to dodge, the spear will still cripple him no matter which direction he fled and no matter how fast. At best, he would be able to avoid a fatal blow.

"**Gae…"**

Something resonated in the air. Something so fowl, dark, malevolent that it rivaled the magics binding her Dux Legionum. It sang a song of _hunger _like a wild dog howling at its pack for prey. The air had become thick as the resonation littered the spirit's signature into a super-compressed substance.

When she broke through the blood mist concealing her location, her eyes immediately caught sight of the origin of the heresy. The blue spirit's spear was vibrating with power she had not seen since the prime of her crusade. She should have recognized it was one of _those _weapons mortals came across once every generation or so. The barbed tip of the spear in her hands should have been the only clue she needed. She even knew it was something capable of slaying greater mystic beings.

A Noble Phantasm.

This was no mere spirit. She had been horrendously wrong and was going to pay the ultimate price for her foolishness. She felt great power radiating off of this being but had taken his appearance to be nothing more than an overcompensating effigy. No, this was no mere wraith, elemental, _spirit. _This was…

**"Bolg!"**

…A Hero.

Two spears flew through the air. Two shockwaves filled the night. The first was the spear the blonde Servant unleashed onto her grounded target. As he had been attacking rather than preparing a proper defense, he was left open for her strike to land true. However, the second shockwave had come from the blow of his spear. At the command of his Noble Phantasm, his barbed spear all but flew from his hands, twisted, spiraled at impossible bends around her projectile— it would never miss its target because its target had already been pierced since the invoking of its name.

The weapon of Phenomena Defiant Works struck through her chest plate and tore through until the tip cut a hole through her cape. It had struck her heart true with enough force to suspend her in the air in a moment of weightlessness.

But the world was cruel. Gravity, ever so hateful, such a spiteful creature, gravity, took hold of her and sent her crashing mercilessly onto the ground.

In a last bit of defiance to the world and its cruelty, lying and staining her summoner's lawn with her blood, she looked up at the night sky and bit her thumb at it. Those Primordial _douchebags _up in the heavens, especially _that _filth who enforced the laws of gravity, should be throwing a hissy-fit like the little girls that they are for her gesture.

Smiling at the sight of a star going out, she let her hand fall and succumbed to death's embrace.

And waited…

*Scene*

Shirou removed his arms from his face when the chunks of dirt and rock stopped hitting him. He wanted to shout something as he saw when both weapons landed. He saw but a flash as a streak of red of the blue man's spear _warped _and hit her square in the chest before he had to protect himself. Without a doubt she had been hit with a lethal wound. He prayed the spear had missed something important but knew from the feeling in his gut she wasn't going to get back up from that.

"No!" he shouted instead. He would have called her name if he had taken the chance given to him to learn it. It had been less than a minute when they shared that awkward meeting. Instead of following his protocol of being a good host (even with surprise 'guests' such as her) and going through his usual tact of politesse, he stared at her like a gaping fish and let her walk out.

He would have moved to her aid if it wasn't for what he saw when the dust cleared.

Towering over the silver girl's corpse was the blue spearman. He gripped his red spear and yanked it out of her torso, grunting in pain and effort in the process. By no means had he been well-off on his own. He had one hell of a wound to deal with. By what Shirou could figure, the opposing spear of the girl's had struck him through the shoulder, had run its course _through _his body, and had made a new hole through the spearman's hip. He must have curved his body at the perfect angle at the last minute to minimize the damage so the spear would not tear anything important. Large amounts of blood poured out of his body in quantities a normal person should have been dead by now.

But this wasn't a normal person. This was an impossible _thing _Shirou had no chance of surviving against. Earlier in the evening the spearman was simply toying with him as he tried to defend himself with a Reinforced metal poster. He had treated Shirou like it was a chore. He hadn't been using a shred of his full potential like he had shown against that red _thing _back in the schoolyard.

Shirou froze as those scarlet eyes met his.

"You sure did summon something, kid," the spearman grunted as he couldn't help but turn his spear into a crutch. He gave a feral grin as he gripped his wounded side. "Didn't think anything other than the Berserker could hurt me so badly this early in the War."

Meaningless words to Shirou. They were supposed to be a sort of compliment, something in regards to minor praise from the spearman. However, by the glint in his eyes, the spearman would continue his hunt to the very end.

"But you're still the Seventh," the blue man concluded. He hefted his spear off the ground and stood tall. The wound in which would leave any other person debilitated meant next to nothing to him. He shouldn't be standing with the amount of pain his body must have been going through, but Shirou had already figured, for the umpteenth time this night, this was something beyond human.

"…You'll be a problem later on."

Sweat fell from Shirou's brow as the blue _thing _took his first few steps forward. They were simple treading steps that would cross the distance in a matter of seconds. But as this lancer came closer and closer, time stretched as Shirou's mind raced through infinite possibilities to further his survival. He could run, he could try to call for help, he could try to fight this thing on his own once more, he could try to plead with this creature.

But all thoughts came to the same conclusion. To try anything wouldn't even prolong anything. He will die. It was as simple as that.

Despite his inevitable demise, Emiya Shirou would refuse to go along with Fate and willingly die.

**"…Oh swath of flame within my bosom,"**

There was a… flicker of something red distorting Shirou's vision. Perhaps it was there, perhaps it wasn't. It wasn't something anyone could have seen. It was something only within his vision. Simultaneously, the blue spearman couldn't help but turn his head as something… unwelcoming was attracting his attention. He too was seeing red, but not the same as the one Shirou was. Rather, to be more exact, it was a different frame within his own vision just the same as Shirou's. Two reds taking the same space; two reds implanting its image into their minds separately.

A red shadow. No, a red _something _masking a person. But was it truly a _something_? The figure of red was not taking up space, did not present any form of appearance, did not radiate anything _natural _to indicate it was there to begin with. The red blur— streak— shade— pigmy was something that could not, should not, _does not _exist within this realm ruled by Gaia.

Yet, the spearman flinched as both he and Shirou saw it _smile._

**"Is this love?" **it said, continuing is obscure creed. It did not _talk, _did not produce any sort of sound by any means, but it was still heard. **"Or is this the thrill of what it means to face defeat?"**

It shifted, pulsed, convulsed like a living organism— a bacteria— a virus— a plague that should not be here. The red _error _forced its way onto the plane the two stood in. It grew a head, hands, legs, a body. It stretched out muscles, veins, bones, skin. It then had a height, an identity, a vision, an appearance, a _presence._

**"No, this is nothing more than **the bittersweet reminder of what it means to be… mortal," silver, white, and red threads cycled around the body to give it clothing of woven fabrics and hardened metal.

The blonde girl stood before them, a loving smile on her face as her eyes continued to glare in such intense ferocity. There was not a mark on her as her body had been… rejuvenated. "Victory has betrayed me and defeat my only friend. Without victory, I shall cry in the name of love. With defeat by my side, I shall exact my vengeance!"

The blue spearman's eyes widened. "What the hell are you?"

At her silent command, a pair of Roman gladii materialized in her grip. At the same time, a new layer of red was over-coating her already donned armor. Like a living liquid, it stretched over her body, covering her exposed skin in the dense red metal. It had fit her perfectly without a single flaw in its design. Armor to defend against slashes, crushing blows, piercings.

A great helm covered her head, but as she took a stance for battle both Shirou and the blue man could not help but _know _her smile had grown from ear to ear.

"I am the Leader of Legions," she began to recite with pleasure, excitement, pride, and anticipation crumbled into one emotion. "The Prefect of Briton, Provost of Rome's Navy, Prime Spear of all Centurions! I am the White Dragon of Victory, slayer of the enemies of Rome! I am the King of Lost, I am Lucia Artorius Castus!

"And I shall always return," she concluded.

Something clicked right then. Like all silence of a quarantined room being broken by the drop of a loose bolt. It was not the announcement of her identity that triggered this. Rather, it was her expression that had done so. It was a trivial change— something that happens on normal occasions throughout the world. Yet, in this moment, it was something earthshattering.

Instead of seeing the spearman as a challenge, something that _might _push her to defend herself, she now saw him as a threat. It was that subtle change in the state of her mind that changed her entire presence.

He was to be killed, simple as that.

*Scene*

Lancer moved as everything about him screamed to get the hell away from this _abomination_. She launched out of the ground, kicking up dirt in her charge, and swung her blades in his direction at enough speed and force to clip him with the wind she created. They were shallow gashes and he was more than glad he did not try to block that time. In her strike, she had circled around his position and had been able to move between him and the red-haired Master.

Right now, Lancer's Master was telling him to retreat.

'_Yeah, no shit.'_

Lancer grunted as the hindrance of his wound was limiting his mobility. Not only was she at least a rank higher in speed than he was, he had been crippled by her last attack. He should have tried to dodge a little better. Who would have thought this small, petite Servant could dish out some hurt against him?

No, he corrected himself. This wasn't a Servant. Or at the least it couldn't be. Whatever she had done to herself had completely _ignored _the curse of Gae Bolg. What sort of Noble Phantasm could she possibly have that could pull off something like that? It didn't just remove the curse and bring her back to life. She had been given a new body, a new identity, a new _existence_! Something like that required an Anti-World Noble Phantasm at the least! He doubted even that old witch of a teacher could pull something off like that.

Oh, he heard her little self-motivational speech about who she was. Lancer had heard of an 'Artorius' before, but the exact details seemed to elude him at the moment. The information from the Throne wasn't coming in as clearly as he liked. His only theory was this Artorius was a vaguely known hero.

Lancer leapt away like his life depended on it— scratch that, it _did _depend on it. She continued to keep herself between him and her Master while bringing her ridiculous assault. Constantly— _constantly!_— those blood weapons of hers would switch shapes and confuse him to no end. Be they blades, hammers, clubs, axes, spears— any sort of weapon from the common to the exotic came at him in impossible transitions. By her tenacity and this newfound strength, she had been able to tear him into shreds on many occasions. And no matter how hard he tried, he could not find a gap in that blood armor.

He thought about using Gae Bolg once more. But that would be if, and only if, he could get enough time to use it. Added into the fact the prana cost of reversing cause and effect didn't help one bit. He'll be completely defenseless if he used it one more time and found out she could 'reappear' all brand-new again. It was times like this the conditions of his Noble Phantasm were a pain in his ass.

Bloodied and beaten to exhaustion, Lancer had finally made it to the top of the gates. He had a fraction of a second to breathe. Looking down with his peripheral vision as the time would allow, he saw her about to leap with a pair of serrated blades.

"Wait! Stop!" his saving grace became her Master.

Like an obedient Servant, she did not leap after him. She kept her knees bent and arms raised, ready to attack at any given chance.

He saw her eyes narrow through her visor.

"It's been fun, but I think I'm going to bail," Lancer said with his charm despite nearly falling apart. "But next time won't be so different. Come at me now if you want; but if you do… you will die."

Artorius gave no response. In fact, she did not so much as twitch. She continued to stand like a statue in the same pose as before. However, Lancer could feel the intense glare she was giving him. She wanted to go after him. He could _feel _her killing intent.

Rather than continue to push his already shitty luck, Lancer turned and went into his astral form as he retreated back to the church.

*Scene*

Dux Legionum evaporated into mist at her command. Her weapons and armor were relieved as she stood in her previous attire. Why had she listened to the plea of her summoner? This Hero she had just faced had a means of killing her that required minimum effort. It was almost unfair, but she had faced worse in her time of servitude. Surely, this Hero was a threat onto herself and to her summoner. She could understand why he required her services.

"…Why, boy?" she sighed in… agitation, she supposed. She did not look at him as he came to her side. Artorius continued to stare at the spot where the Hero had disappeared. She couldn't even pick up his scent. What strange magic it must have been for him to simply vanish from this plane of existence. Was it perhaps one of the Arch-types, or was it something more potent such as a Defiant Work?

"…Are you all right?" he asked instead of answering her question.

Her head tilted slightly at his tone. This boy was truly concerned for her welfare despite the conditions of their meeting. One might say they had known the other for quite some time. If so, this era was either transcendently more forgiving than hers or the boy was a naïve fool. If the former then there was something powerful at work— which wasn't so undoubtable seeing as a Hero of the lost past was involved. If the latter however…

"Well. Now, why did you have me cease my advance? Master, did you not call me here to protect you? How may I do so if the threat continues to exist? Surely you couldn't fancy me so much as to keep me prolonged here through _inane _methods?"

There was a bit of fire in her last question. But truth is always revealed once danger enters the situation. She wanted his honest answer, not some pre-scripted nonsensical recite.

"…Shirou."

Or he could avoid the question altogether.

…Which she will have none of. "Master, summoner, boy, _child— _I shall call you whatever deems fit. You expect me to show you respect when it hasn't been earned? You summon me to your aid, draw me into battle without preparations, and now desire me to address you as a _person _when you've hindered the thing you've brought me here to perform? When you have my respect, I shall call you otherwise. Now, answer my question."

Rather than faltering or wilting like the naïve child she believed him to be, he took a step back and bowed respectively. "I'm sorry."

She turned her head this time to look at him. It was an unorthodox politesse, and one she rarely saw at that, but she could find the merit of his attempt to appease her. Therefore, she decided to give him some doubt and listen to what he had further to say.

He lifted himself as he looked squarely at her eyes. "I don't know what's going on. I don't know what I did to summon you. I don't know what that _thing_ was, what's been happening this evening, or even what you are. I'm sorry if I've been an inconvenience. But I don't want anyone to die while I'm around."

Well, this was a perplexing problem. She thought to herself for a moment. A mageling had called her from her den from the celestial beyond to be bound in servitude… unintentionally? It was not the first time a mortal had ripped her out of the cycle of her liege, but those moments had been something marvelously impossible. It was easier to rotate the plates of the heavens by sheer _physical _force. The idea alone was ridiculous, childish, however never was it impossible.

But to do so by _accident_? If what he said was true, and the sincerity of his tone told her as much, then she would have been dragged down the higher planes in a form of the highest frequency permissible in this world. Something akin to a… what was it they were called…? Divine Spirit. Yes, something akin to a Divine Spirit.

But to be dragged down, forced to adapt, to alter her frequency _and _registration to be fitting of a mortal body? This boy didn't just move the heavens _accidentally. _He had, unknowingly, rewrote the Laws of the universe at the same time.

She couldn't help but laugh.

"You know not what you have done, child," she said between breaths as she started to calm down. "The magics required to perform such an act… Nay, nothing but the errors of the Abyss may entitle you to this ability. This transcends—"

Anything else she had to say was cut off as a new scent filled the air. She inhaled, following the trail of a breeze only she could detect. The Bounded Field around the parameter of the manor was still active; no natural interference such as animals, the mundane, or, and especially, the wind. Yet her nostrils flared at the presence of a new identity. Normally this would be ignored, but the two coming close to the estate sent her alarms.

The first was insignificant, but should not be ignored nonetheless. It smelled of… earthly minerals. Salt, mercury, granite, and countless others grated and grinded into one substance, refined into beauty only great time and the might of the planet itself could accomplish. Rare, uncut jewels in other words.

The second, however, smelt of sulfur, ash, blood, and Steel. _That _made her wary.

Not just because it was Steel. Because it was the _exact _same metaphysical scent of her Master.

"Castus-san…?"

"Lucia or Artorius," she replied mechanically as she had done so countless other times in her prime. "I take pride in myself and in being the eleventh head of _gens Artorii._"

He looked at her with concern as she hadn't looked at him in her reply. "Artorius-san, are you sure you're all right? You… and that spear…"

That was not what he wanted to ask. He was, as they say, _pussy-footing _his way around what was really on his mind. Yes, Artorius could see the genuine concern written on his face. But there was also confusion, which in turn was growing into a parasitic fear. Humanity always fears what it does not know, especially something they can never understand. This boy had witnessed a force mortals were never to come across.

"Perhaps some other time, boy," she dismissed his apprehension for a later time. With the threat of Steel getting closer quickly, she gave him a light push aside as she marched on to the gates. "For now, wait here. Do not move. I shall secure the area."

*Scene*

The only warning Rin got was Archer appearing out of his astral form. His yin-yang blades were at the ready. She didn't get the chance to ask him what was wrong.

Something crashed into Archer, something with more than enough force to drive him back with a great grunt of effort. The shockwave of whatever struck him sent Rin fumbling back until she lost her balance. There was just no way she could have prepared herself.

Archer put up his best guard against this savage Servant. Savage because no matter how many opening he gave her she would not fall for his tactics. She swung her weapons around without any form from what he could tell. Everything was just coming at him too fast for him to be precise.

He had remembered this instance when his younger self would run out to try and stop Saber from killing an unknown intruder, which would turn out to be Rin. The memory came back at him but a second before Saber burst out of nowhere. He knew she was powerful, but he had overestimated her level of strength and speed.

But he didn't remember Saber having _red _weapons.

She spun to apply twice as much power to her next strike. Even crossing his blades in a solid defense, Bakuya and Kanshou shattered as he felt his bones creak. His teeth clattered even when he had his jaw clenched the entire time. It felt like he had been hit by a meteor.

He had been rattled so much he had no chance of avoiding her next attack.

**"Archer, disappear!" **commanded his Master.

Artorius cut air as Archer vanished into his spectral state by the power of his Master's Command Seal. The pair of crimson machetes was halted right before they were to crash into the ground. She twisted her wrists and was about to launch herself at Rin next.

Rin had another idea. In haste, and in _great _desperation, she pulled out one of her family jewels and flung it at the blonde Servant. Pulsing her magic through and activating the incantation, the jewel exploded in a storm of A-Rank wind magecraft. Servant or not, it should be more than enough to at least maim them if not outright kill them if it was a critical blow.

A red arm broke through the cyclone and reached for Rin. The girl had no time to gasp as the Servant came out unscathed with pure red armor protecting her entirety. She gripped onto Rin's neck with enough strength to bruise. With more pressure she could snap it in two.

…Maybe saving Archer wasn't such a good idea.

Rin stared horrified at the pair of glowing green eyes behind the visor's helm. They were cold, unforgiving, vengeful. The crimson armored Servant pulled her arm back to deliver the final blow with a stiletto forming in her grip.

"Artorius, stop!"

Rin could have sworn she saw the Servant roll her eyes. But she couldn't tell as soon as those words were shouted from the gates Rin was shoved onto the ground. At the release of the death-grip, Rin broke out into a fit of coughing.

"More nonsense about not killing, _boy_?" the Servant turned away from Rin while her crimson armor dissolved into mist. Yet Rin knew she was still keeping an eye on her and would finish the job should Rin try anything.

The boy she had come to save, Emiya Shirou, approached the blonde Servant, Artorius, with a look of anger and disappointment. "Yes. I told you, I don't want anyone killed while I'm around."

"Hmph, which is why I told you not to move." Her tone changed from irritation to equal disappointment, "This kindness of yours will be the death of you, no matter how noble it is."

He said nothing more to her as he went around her to help Rin. "Miss, are you… T-Tohsaka?"

Rin stood on her own and patted the dirt off her skirt. Her neck still ached but this wasn't the time to show weakness. With the grace and elegance of a Tohsaka, Rin addressed the boy with suave. "Hello Emiya-kun. So it seems you summoned one too."

He stared dumbfounded for a moment before recollecting himself. He clamped his mouth shut and tried a different approach now that he knew who he was talking to. "I see… You're a magus too?"

"I am," she replied coolly but could not hold back the slight perspiration gathering at her brow at the glare Artorius was giving her. "I take it you know next to nothing about what's going on…? I thought as much. Very well. I guess since you saved my life I should return the favor. I might as well tell you what you've gotten yourself involved in."

"…Yes, I would very much like to know. Come inside. I'll make us all some tea."

Rin only nodded, no longer trusting her own voice. Shirou she knew she could trust to not pull anything. He had a reputation of being a kind-hearted pushover. His Servant, however, put Rin on edge. When Shirou gestured for her to follow, Artorius waited until Rin had passed. Behind her, Rin could _feel _Artorius' eyes examining every part of her. It was like she was looking for a reason to take Rin out.

Shirou sure did summon something alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**A note from the author!**

Actually, not much to say. I had something, but for the life of me I can't remember. Something having to do with Shirou and his growth. But can't remember how much I was going to spoil.

Regardless, here we go. Second chapter up. Sorry for the REALLY late update. Been working on other projects. Will try to update this more often, but can't promise anything.

Enjoy.

* * *

"You're not going to come in?" Shirou asked his blonde… Servant. He hadn't fully grasped what it meant to be a Master and bound a Heroic Spirit to his side. Though Rin had gone through the basics of what defined a 'Servant', Shirou couldn't help but blush at every time the title came up. Rin had also been determined to beat the definition of a servant and Servant into him. Despite there being a _clear _difference, having the same title produced the same results from the teenage boy.

Artorius never looked away from the tall doors of the church. Since Shirou _requested _Artorius to stop fighting, she had been quiet. She never said a word, never asked a question, never looked at Shirou's direction whenever he had a response or question of his own. She only stared at Rin, listening to her explanation of the Holy Grail War, Servants, her being the Second Owner, but above all else she stared at the red-clad man standing behind Rin during the gathering.

She had been, as noted by Rin, much more of a painted face than a person. Her eyes had never shifted astray no matter where the conversation drifted. Artorius had always sat beside Shirou in a very Japanese seiza style as though she were awaiting his next command. When the explanations were concluded at the best of Rin's description, the school idol had volunteered to see him registered for the War.

Artorius had stood then and offered to escort Shirou all the way through; those being her only words thus far. In turn, Rin took the two of them across of town, going over the bridge, and brought them before Kotomine Church located at the corner of the whole city.

"It _reeks _of hypocrisy," Artorius responded to her Master with a degree of hatred in her eyes. Her brows furrowed as she couldn't help but crinkle her nose in great disgust.

"…You don't like the church, do you?" Shirou asked.

"Far from it," Artorius shrugged as she returned to her blank face. "I tolerate foreign religions as much as the next, possibly more so because I derive from an age of a thousand gods. The idea of One Nameless God is just as amusing as Rome's Celestial Divinities. If anything, I've respect for the Christians outliving Rome's theology."

"This is a Catholic church," Rin pointed out.

"One Nameless God," Artorius repeated. "It matters not what branch this building belongs to; they all derive off of the same belief. Different principles, perhaps, but originate from the same deity." This time, Artorius turned her attention towards Rin, a glint of her murderous hunger returning in her next question. "Or perhaps you wish I call you what my people have, Slaves?"

Rin did not blanch like she had before. But she also couldn't help but look away. "The Church and the Mage Association don't get along!"

"Oh yes, how could I forget?" Artorius turned away as though she had lost interest in Rin entirely. Yet she continued on with the topic, perhaps speaking more so to herself than to anyone. "But I do recall a time when priests of the Nameless One would conjure up dark forces beyond the mortal plane in their rites. Reapers, fallen ones, wraiths, elementals— even the rare and omnipotent Seraphim. _Hypocrites._

"So, summoner," Artorius lifted her head but did not look at Shirou. Her face was no longer blank but instead filled with deep thought. "I shall await your return here. I've a feeling I know all the rules to begin with. You will find from this experience tonight that all these _games _are much the same. Fools trying to achieve something beyond their reach by slaughtering their fellows. When you return, we shall discuss how we shall progress in this endeavor."

Rin had caught something Artorius said. Perhaps it would explain why she had never jumped into the explanation regarding the Holy Grail War and why she had been silent throughout the evening. Rin had thought it had been a quirk of the Servant. But from her small babbling, it would seem Artorius knew next to nothing about the War. Or, perhaps, this was a sort of façade to throw Rin off.

Nonetheless, Rin and Shirou gave their departing gestures and entered the church to meet the moderator of the War.

*Scene*

"Archer, was it?" Artorius stood at guard while her Master was educating himself on the rules of this _game. _She refused to lean against the church's wall, refused to kneel or seat at the nearby bench, and she especially refused to lower her guard around the presence of this Hero. Interesting enough, the red and black _Servant _could alter his frequency into the higher plane at will just like the blue spearman before. She found it amusing at how he could do so with ease.

A Heroic Spirit, she corrected herself. Not a Hero. That Tohsaka girl had given a light description on these ethereal beings. They were Heroes, in a sense, but were recorded beings of a deceased Hero located in some pseudo dimension known as the Throne of Heroes. For this Holy Grail War, copies of the Hero were transferred from the Throne and sent into this plane of existence.

But as Spirits, Artorius found confusing. Was it because the Hero was deceased that their projected selves returned as Spirits?

There were too many unknown factors for her to have a decent theory. Such as why and how they could alter frequencies between physical and ethereal. How many of these _Servants _were summoned, and then asked what the difference between a Heroic Spirit and Servant was? Were they one in the same or did one mean something specific to the other? What was the origin of this rite, not of its purpose— there was a distinction and the former would answer much more. And then, how did she play into all of this?

Yes, how did she play into all of this? The rules didn't seem to apply to her…

The red and black Servant did not answer her, let alone down-tune out of his spiritual frequency. She could respect him; he did not budge in the slightest and did not reveal anything about himself. It was a sound tact she used several times when meeting current or potential enemies. And just as she spent the night observing him, he too watched her just as closely.

She would have returned to her post with a mental nod of approval for his dedication, but she needed something of him. By no means did she need his help— she would never be that desperate. She needed him to understand something.

"Emiya," she called out instead. "I require a word with you."

She continued to stand at attention as she patiently awaited his response. She could not see him but knew from personal experience that there was a lingering presence lurking beyond her mortal sight within her left flank. At the calling of the Servant's name, _something _shifted. Soon after, the mundane presence of suspicion, curiosity, panic, and murder crawled up her skin.

Artorius had put two-and-two together the moment the Tohsaka girl had finished her explanation about the Throne of Heroes. As it existed outside of time/space, Heroes could be summoned as Heroic Spirits within any time period. Therefore, in theory, who was to say a Hero from the future couldn't come into this era's present? By no means should two souls carry the _exact _same scent. Perhaps the same characteristics, and the two did have a difference in potency, but the base components were the same down to the letter.

This Archer was a Spirit of what her current summoner will one day be. And this Spirit _loathed _his younger self for reasons she could not fathom.

She was not affected in the slightest by this Spirit's intimidation.

"Listen well," she began as he refused to climb down from his higher plane. Those of the lower could never perceive creatures hidden like him, but those of higher frequencies could always look _down _onto this realm. If Archer refused to acknowledge her, he will at least hear her words.

It was up to him if he chose to listen or not. But from her intention, it would be wise to do so.

"I shall only say this once. You shall stay away from my Master. I know not why you hold such hostility towards him, nor do I care for your personal reasons. Had we met under through other means, I would have been excited for the chance to test against you. However, as you are now, I've no interest in you whatsoever. I do not wish to chore myself with you if it can be helped.

"I have no respect for someone who no longer desires to live," she finished with a snarl.

No matter the reason this Spirit had, at the least he knew he was to doom himself should he go after his younger self. Any simpleton would know this logic. If the younger Shirou Emiya were to die before he was to become a Hero, then the Hero will cease to exist. As there was no doubt in his gaze when they had met, this Archer did not care in the slightest. His life would be forfeit.

There was nothing else. There was no reply, nor any indication the Archer had listened. The same sensation she felt before wasn't present. She could have just spoken to open air. He could have walked away a long time ago.

Yet, Artorius knew he had heard her. Who could say how? Call it her intuition or a feeling from her experiences, but she knew without a doubt.

Now only time could tell whether he had been _listening._

Nothing more, Artorius returned to her stance and awaited her Master's return.

*Scene*

Kotomine Kirei let the smile fall as soon as the Emiya boy and his ward left the church. He was… disappointed, if such a state of mind could be called such an emotion. Kotomine was a hollowed out soul who did not feel very many emotions other than _passion. _Wicked, dark, twisted, demented passion, but passion all the same. It was from the Emiya's decision tonight which removed the passion from inside. He did not feel so bitter or upset like some child having a toy robbed from them, but there was something missing from within, for sure.

So to say, he wasn't disappointed. He was… bored. Yes, bored was a better word for it. Without the passion, he was nothing more than a false priest going through the motions as he had for the past ten years. He will resume his duties as a representative of the Church as well as the Fifth Heaven's Feel moderator.

And as he was the moderator… his curiosity returned towards the Cards he presented earlier to the most recent Master. Walking back to the altar, he examined the Seventh Card.

These were Class Cards in which represented the seven Class Containers a Heroic Spirit can take when becoming a Servant. When a Servant was summoned, the magic within these cards would activate and reveal the image within its borders. In his explanation, he had pulled these cards out of the box within his office and showed them one at a time.

The Assassin. The Berserker. The Caster. The Archer. The Rider. The Lancer.

And then there was the Seventh. Kotomine picked it up and examined it closely. From what he had gathered on this evening, he had located all seven Masters. And all seven had summoned something. He had ordered Lancer to engage in each of them in order to determine their credibility. He had even faced against the Emiya's— whatever that monstrosity of a woman was. He had not missed she was in a spitting image of _that man's _Saber. Truly only the Holy Grail War could produce such wondrous beings.

However, what confused him… the knightly image within the Saber Card had yet to reveal itself.

Which meant Servant Saber had yet to be summoned.

Kotomine put the card back down and pondered. There was only ever one case in which an alternative Servant had been summoned. In the Third War, the Einzberns had summoned the Avenger, replacing the Berserker. Alas, records of that War were scarce and the fate of the Avenger was limited— only it had been defeated in the early days.

But he had already checked. The chained prisoner image did not reveal itself on the Avenger Card.

He wondered, could this Servant be under a new Class?

It was unfortunate he will never know.

Putting the cards back in the box, Kotomine returned to his office to entertain the other one always lingering around and drinking the ceremonial wine. This news would be a good tale for the evening.

*Scene*

"So, boy, what shall our course of action be?" Artorius clicked her heels and turned once Shirou and Rin stepped out of the church.

Shirou did not look the least bit happy about what he had just heard. A deep scowl pressed his face as he walked with something of a slouch. But after hearing her question, his jaw went slack and he tried to readjust his posture. A hand combed through his red locks.

"All of the kidnappings, the gas leaks, the murders and many other incidents similar lately are because of this _Holy Grail War," _he began with a strong distaste. "The seven Magi and seven Servants fight against each other and a lot of people are dying because of the crossfire. And the goal at the end? It's to have a wish granted."

A throaty laughter filled the sterile air as Artorius let out everything in her lungs. "Of course it is! What other reason do imbeciles design such a grand rite? As I told you, this is but a game, boy. Naturally the prize at the end—"

"This isn't a game!" shouted Shirou.

Artorius had stopped her laughter, but her smile did not disappear. She cocked a curious brow, signaling the boy to continue with his words.

"People are dying because of this, Artorius," rage seethed through his teeth. He was so upset he had thrown away any honorific for her name. "Innocent people are dying and their deaths are being covered up. Half the time there's not even a body to be found."

"What of it?" Artorius gave a sigh of annoyance. A hand rested on her hip as she began to gesture with her other to emphasize her words. "Is this not called a War? People on all sides, whether they are bystanders or not, will always be drawn in whether by choice or not. Just because this is treated as a game does not exempt it from the rules, boy. And nothing you do will ever change it. In this madness, this uncontrollable chaos, there is no right or wrong— only who shall live and who shall die. Thus only leaves…"

Her eyes narrowed as now both hands rested on her hips. "…The question. Which side do you reside on, Shirou Emiya?"

She had expected him to remain silent in thought. But her expectations were shattered when he responded almost before she could finish the question.

"Theirs," he stood straight, unmoving and unfazed by her piercing glare. "I could never live with myself if I was a part of something that killed indiscriminately for the gain of a _wish. _I'll not be a part of this Grail War."

"I see…" Artorius did not respond with anything further. All the same, her expression remained.

"Emiya-kun," Rin spoke up from his behind. "Are you sure about this? There's no second chance once you've made up your mind."

"My mind has already been made," Shirou nodded without looking once at her. His eyes shifted down to the back of his hand where the blade with wings insignia glowed dimly in blood red. He raised them, put his mind to focus on them, and they began to glow a little brighter.

With a fist towards Artorius, he Commanded, "Artorius, perform to the best of your abilities during the remainder of the War. Second, never betray yourself or your morals. And third, if it can be helped, only fight against the Servants and their Masters so that the innocent do not get caught in the crossfire."

With each Command, each symbol that made up the Command Seal vanished into a smudge of red ink. Until the third Command was released, the marks vanished entirely from his skin. There was no evidence he was ever a participant of the Holy Grail War.

And from this moment, he was no longer a Master.

"Interesting choice of words," Artorius bowed her head ever so slightly, though she never once looked away from the boy. "With these 'absolute commands' you could have ordered me to do anything. I could have been your concubine or personal slave, yet you choose instead to have me play the part of the hero."

Shirou did not falter by her attempt to tease him, if it could have been called that. "I don't agree with this War one bit. But that doesn't mean I can force you to do something you don't want; I'd be no better than the other Magi participating."

Meanwhile, a tick mark appeared on Rin's brow.

"So you give me orders to do my best, never betray myself, and to play the part of the hero," Artorius let out a small chuckle. "How presumptuous of you, _boy. _There you go again with the nonsense about people not dying when in your presence. And you believe because I coincidently saved you from the Lancer and assaulted the Archer that my actions were in your best interest? Nothing could be further from the truth.

"Your second and third Commands contradict. I can never play the part of hero as you wish for me to. I never have and never shall be. If anything, I am the dragon— that which terrorizes and brings destruction in its wake. I protected you not because of some virtuous desire for the better of my soul; I did so because you are what anchor me to this world. But seeing as though you've chosen to sever that bond, I've no need of you any further. I shall seek out a new Master for this game. But I shall humor your wishes and keep the deaths down to a minimum— but I shall not go out of my way to save any of them."

She stepped forward. Her hands reached up until they clasped around his still-young face. She pulled him down with her inhuman strength, rose from the tips of her toes…

And kissed his right cheek first. His left cheek next.

"W-Wha…?" Shirou blushed the moment she let go. His emotions were conflicted between resentment towards her for her words and embarrassment for what she had just done.

"I grant you fortune and victory," she recited with a smile thinning her lips. "Grow strong to become a worthy Hero. When the time comes, this White Dragon of Victory shall test your fortitude. Until then, farewell, Shirou Emiya."

*Scene*

It was a long and quiet walk. Artorius had left him in order to seek a new Master or to be ejected by the world, whichever came first as she said. Rin didn't say anything as they walked down the hill. It wasn't until they hit the crossroads did she say she would see him in school. He didn't ask why she was going that way when they still had to cross the bridge together; he assumed she had other business to attend to. He did, however, ask what her intentions were for the War.

She said she had no interest in the Grail at all. Rather, she wanted to win just to add it to her personal resume. She also added it would also add emphasis to her presence once she graduated school and would apply to the Clock Tower. Last, she had no intention from the start to bring outsiders into the War. Her means of keeping it all a secret was to wipe away their memories, not to outright kill them like what Lancer had attempted.

With her departure, she gave him the approval to continue with his practicing of magecraft. Not that what he was doing could be called that. He more-so considered himself a 'magic user' rather than an actual Magus. Rin said nothing further and went on her way.

It was at this point Shirou continued to stand at the crossroads. He felt cold, and it had nothing to do with the late-winter weather. He couldn't help but question if he had done the right thing. True, he wanted nothing to do with the Holy Grail War and could _never _perform the tasks needed to keep it a secret. Perhaps if he was a bit better at magecraft he could have learned to alter memories like Rin. But, with his current credentials, he would have been left with forcibly killing any spectators.

And if he didn't, the Church and Mage Associate would have.

Another thing, he couldn't agree with what Artorius said to him. She spoke as if it was all a game between children. Yes, it did seem to be something immature, but isn't how any war in general looks like? Regardless, she didn't care in the slightest if others not involved would die. Though she said she would keep their deaths down to a minimum, she also said she wouldn't bother trying to save them. It was something Shirou couldn't stand for. But all the same, he didn't have the power to defy Artorius.

Perhaps if he still had the Command Seals. But then it would have left him in the same position as before. No, he had made the right choice. He was no longer a Master and that was that.

"I see. You're alone now, _Onii-chan._"

Suddenly, all the roads surrounding him were cut off. Oh, they were still there and visible, but he knew he could never be able to walk down any of them. There was something cutting off the four routes— something mystical and beyond his means to remove.

His attention moved towards the voice coming from the hill he had descended upon with Rin. It was a sweet voice, childish even. It belonged to a young girl, and one he was familiar with. He had heard the voice but a few days ago.

But before he could turn around completely…

There was an eruption as a black blur which had stood behind the girl crossed the several meter distance in an instant. There was only pain as concrete and asphalt splattered everywhere. Something sharp had cut into him— the very same that shook the earth below him. Before he had so much of a chance to gasp for air, his right arm had been severed from the elbow-down.

Blood poured out of his wound at frightening quantities. It was not a clean cut. Bone, veins, muscle fibers, and flabs of skin lingered around the wound as his arm hadn't been severed as it had been crushed and forced to tear apart by an impossible force.

By now, Shirou screamed as the pain kicked in.

The black giant towering over him raised its stone weapon once more.

"Berserker, I don't feel like playing chase, so just squash him."

There was no other warning. There was no sign that the black beast known as Servant Berserker had even moved. Only that his weapon had come down at a speed in which it didn't look like he had prepared to swing.

Shirou twisted his body away with everything that he had. But it was not enough. The giant's weapon had swung down far too fast to be humanly possible and had completely crushed his right leg, severing it from mid-thigh just like his arm. The shockwave alone blew him away as more blood gushed out of his wounds.

Consciousness was fading, fast. He was losing too much blood. But every fiber of his being was screaming at him to live— to get away. His left hand tried to pull him away from the monster who had the power to kill him in an instant. Thoughts no longer crossed his mind. His body was only pushing forward, desperately and pathetically trying to gather distance as though a few centimeters would define life and death.

Soft clattering of footsteps approached, crossing the distance with calm demeanor. The steps of the little girl coming his way would approach in a minute, while he had hardly gained anything. It would have angered him had reality been phasing in and out of him.

"Persistence is a good virtue," the little girl skipped along until she stood in front of him, cutting off what direction he was trying to flee towards. "But Grandpa taught me that the Japanese were disciplined. I thought they fight until they couldn't any further. Sometimes even committing suicide under undefeatable odds."

Shirou's mouth was too dry for him to respond, even if he wanted to. His vision was turning red. He could barely hear a word she was saying.

"But don't worry; it'll all be over soon," she _giggled._

Shirou looked up, his eyes glazed as the little girl was nothing more than a blur of colors in his vision. But even in this state of shock, where instinct presided over everything else, he still had the cognitive ability to notice the sheer level of malevolence radiating off of this girl.

"But… not a… Master any…more…"

The girl gasped. She was silent for a moment. That aura of malevolence vanished by his words.

…Only to return just as strong.

"Yup. What of it?" she questioned with an angelic smile.

This changed nothing. Hope shattered with her response. No matter what Shirou would have— _could have— _said at this point would have been shrugged off. She was going to kill him, whether he was a Master or not.

She giggled again and began to sway back and forth. "Don't worry, Onii-chan. I'll make sure you'll stay alive as long as possible. You won't be dying anytime soon. I haven't had the chance to play with you yet. Right now, I invite you to my castle. There are a bunch of neat _toys _there. But… You're a little too big for me to carry. Hmm… I think I can only carry your head with me~"

Dread filled Shirou. He knew she was a Master and therefore another Magus. And she wasn't going to kill him, least not right away. She was going to use her magecraft to keep him alive as long as possible as she tortured him until she had her fill.

"Berserker, remove his head from his—"

There came a thunderous sound of glass shattering as though struck by a cannon ball. Artorius crashed through the barrier cutting off the outside world from this inner dimension, diving in head-first. In her hands was a jousting lance. Before eyes could turn towards her direction, she spun, arched her back, and threw her body forward as though a spring had been released. The spear in her hands went flying.

Berserker swung his axe-sword not to block or deflect the instrument coming his way, but did so to defeat it as though it were an enemy. The force of his strike as well as from the spear brought a shockwave mighty enough to tear the street under asunder. The recoil forced Berserker to take a step back while the lance shattered into thousands of shards, only to turn into mist and disperse afterwards.

Artorius landed between the young girl and Shirou. The Master of Berserker shrieked and stumbled to gain as much distance as possible.

"What a pathetic sight you make of yourself, hero," Artorius grimaced as she eyed Shirou over. The same couldn't be said for Shirou as he was on the edge of consciousness. With a flick of her fingers, crimson strings tied to her tips and stretched out until they wrapped around the crumbled remains of Shirou's arm and leg. With a tug, the limbs flew until they were beside the boy.

"You…" the little girl had chosen to stay away and stand with her Servant as her vanguard. "Who are you? How did you break through my Bounded Field?"

Artorius paid her no mind. Instead, she personally put the severed limbs to their respectful places. Alas, she had not the medical tools required to reattach them. Also, the boy had lost too much blood and the limbs were far too ruined to be operational.

However, with a hand raised, mist of red swirled around until it condensed into a ball no bigger than her palm. Without pause, she slammed it onto the boy's back.

Shirou screamed in pain as his senses came rushing back to him. The orb spread out into fragments like a swarm of bugs as they flew towards his wounds. Flesh, bone, sinew, and fiber melded in with another as his body was being repaired. The blood that was lost was being replenished, and any impurities were quickly rid of.

When it was done, Shirou let out a gasp. He began to hyperventilate as his body was slowly recovering from the shock of having his insides rearranged, his blood being recycled by this new liquid, all in the name of healing and reattaching his arm and leg. And they were functional, as he quickly discovered. They were prickly from numbness, but he could move them if he so tried.

Artorius pulled him to his feet by his collar. Despite her posture, there was a slight sign of fatigue in her eyes. Perhaps this ability had pushed her?

Nevertheless, she stood with her back straight. A charming smile crossed her lips as her brows shifted to a coy expression. "Hoh? That miserable, insignificant, veil was a barrier of sorts? My, how the standards of magicians have surely fallen. _Child, _I've faced men of mystics that could rival the wonders of the gods! As if something not even worthy of me to spit upon could hinder me."

By now Shirou had gathered himself enough to begin to notice his surroundings. Standing at his side, of course, was Artorius in the exact same way she had left him less than an hour ago. Across of them, at about ten meters or so, was the pair of Master and Servant that had ambushed him without warning.

The Master was a little girl no older than twelve. She was half his height even. An albino with pale skin, snow-white hair, and crimson eyes, she dressed in a thick violet fur coat with a matching fur hat on her head, a long white skirt touching her knees, and violet fur boots. What once was a look of innocence, her face now carried a look of distaste and annoyance as though something of hers was just taken away by a parent.

Contrasting her in every way was her Servant, the Berserker. He stood at a colossal eight feet tall with bulging muscles larger than Shirou's head, black ashen skin, dark brown hair fitting better as a savage mane of a beast's, and his right eye was bloodshot while his left was golden. He only wore a gilded skirt and bracers on his wrists and ankles. Shirou didn't miss the protruding chunks of bones sticking out of his elbows. Last, in his right hand was a large slab of stone crossing between a makeshift sword and axe with wrappings around the blunt side for him to grab.

This Servant _radiated _a presence of killing intent that nearly drowned Shirou where he stood. This was not a Heroic Spirit like with Artorius, Lancer, or Archer. This was a beast, a killing machine wearing man's skin. And it had been proven that this _thing _could kill Shirou before the boy could even think.

However, Artorius took one step forward. Suddenly, that miasma of murder was gone. She said nothing nor did she give any gesture in his direction. Yet, she was telling him she will stand against Servant Berserker first.

But why? She claimed to be no hero. So why was she acting heroic?

"I thought he didn't have a Servant anymore," the girl pouted like the child she was, puffing her cheeks and everything.

"Return from whence you came, mageling," Artorius did not respond to the comment. "No matter what Hero you hold on your leash, it is not enough. Be glad I spare your life. However, the next time will not be so fortunate. Come at me now if you so desire, but the life of your Hero and that of yours will be forfeit. Such is the word of Rome's White Dragon, Lucia Artorius Castus!"

"…Never heard of you," the girl deadpanned with a dry look. "Be that as it may, you did introduce yourself, so I might as well do so in kind." She put her heels together, grabbed both ends of her skirt, and bowed in a curtsy. "A pleasure; I am Illyasviel von Einzbern. And this," she gestured towards her Servant, "is Greek's greatest hero, Heracles!"

The ashen giant gave no response.

Artorius blinked slowly. Her smile had faltered into a thin line by the Einzbern's words. Shirou was pretty sure it was a blow to her pride that her name wasn't known to the girl. But even Shirou had never heard of her name before, and every Servant was supposed to be a legendary hero.

"The great Alcaeus?" Artorius' thin line turned into a crooked smile much like the one she gave to the Lancer. "Yes, I can see your confusion. As Alcaeus defied natural law through his Trials, you believe he'd be a match for me. _Adorable._"

Her smile grew, twisting her beauty until her presence matched the beastly killing intent of the Berserker. "Do not insult your enemy, _girl. _To do so is to underestimate them. If you think you may match me, then you are surely mistaken. There won't be a lesson to learn— you'll be _dead._"

Artorius took a few more steps forward. Her legs stood apart with her hands placed on her hips. She did not take the stance one might when preparing for battle. She did so to entice the enemy into making the first move, daring them to call her words a bluff.

"I've had enough of this," the girl frowned. "Berserker, kill them both."

It came before Shirou could prepare himself. An explosion of wind and debris flew everywhere as the Berserker charged forward at his unfathomable speeds, closing in and attacking faster than the blink of an eye. The shockwave alone blew Shirou away, bruised his body, and the debris cut into his skin.

"HHHHHhhhhrrrraaaaaaaaaah!"

The sound of grinding metal screeched as sparks lit up the night. A mighty wind blew away the clouds of dust as Artorius swung her weapons together to push away Berserker. The ashen giant stumbled once, only to regain his footing and to strike again. With his axe-sword, his strikes split the air asunder to create vacuum blades by his ferocious speed and strength. Shirou could not see how many times he struck, but with each time a new explosion erupted and blew debris in every direction.

Artorius was matching him with the same feats, however. In her hands was a pair of massive Zweilhanders, both as thick as her body and twice the length as she was tall. Despite their size, she swung both in expert unison, turning and twisting her body around to strengthen their power as she parried and countered the Berserker's attacks. She matched his speed, swinging the twin blades fast enough to create her own shockwaves.

But Shirou could not perfectly see what was going on. His arms were crossed over his face as the two Servant's whiplashing were hurting him even as he gathered some more distance. The winds surrounding them blurred their image until they were just a mix of gray, white, and red. He couldn't even hear anything anymore as the sonic booms were rendering him deaf.

He did, however, see the little girl across of him was throwing a tantrum. She was shouting something while swinging her fists around in frenzy.

Artorius broke the engagement with one parry as she swiveled around the Berserker. Despite his size, Heracles was more than capable of following her as he turned to bring his fist down instead of his weapon.

Instead of blocking, Artorius dodged. She did, however, bring both weapons up into a cross-guard to block Berserker's next strike from his axe-sword. The force alone had her heels dig into the concrete as she ground her teeth together. But with another defiant roar, she pushed the blade away and sent her own counter. To which the Berserker sent his own as he recovered immediately from her attempt to lower his guard.

Rather, Berserker had no guard. He did not use fancy moves or strategies to outmaneuver his opponent. With the Skill of Mad Enhancement so high, all of his legendary skill of swordplay was removed in exchange of amplifying his already godly attributes. He moved so fast and so fierce in a continuous barrage of attacks he did not need to defend. Even as Artorius sent her own attack, all Berserker had to do was attack her attack and then attack some more.

Artorius had faced many similar brutes during her quests against the Germaniums. The savages of that land boasted in their skills as warriors and could defeat any man in armed combat, but as a united army they were nothing more than a large mob. Against the force of her Legion, simple strategies and teamwork were more than enough to overpower them. Even when the battles drew out to the point where her soldiers were forced to engage in ruthless combat, she had been able to best the savages at their own game.

It was a shame. Alcaeus was one such savage.

He had no pattern in his movements, only to continuously swing with all his might until his opponent would give in. But against an opponent of equal strength and speed, perhaps even better than his, this attempt was fruitless.

Artorius swung straight down, forcing his weapon to cut deep into the ground while she used the force of her own swing to propel her up. She released her blades. He swung his fist at her, but she used to spin herself with a hand pressing against the back of his hand. A new weapon formed in her hands.

The replicated blood weapon of the Lancer was shoved deep into his eye sockets. The momentum of her spin added strength as the spear tore through his skull to pierce into his brain.

There was no sound of surprise or anguish. There was only a gargle as it was the body's natural response as he jerked around. Berserker twitched once, and then collapsed onto his back.

Artorius tore the spear out of his head, creating a large gash on his corpse. Without a physical signal, she dismissed her weapons. The spear and the twin great swords evaporated into red mist. With a deep frown, she stepped over him and stood between Shirou and Illyasviel.

"Perhaps if he was not rendered mad, Alcaeus would have been something of a challenge," she muttered in a dry tone. Her head turned until she was looking directly at the young Master. With her hand raised, a gladius appeared in her grip, pointed at the girl. "I will make do with my promise, girl. You should have heeded my warning."

"Artorius that's—"

Whatever Shirou was about to say was cut off by the sound of Illyasviel's giggling. Her laughter was something of a melody as she twirled around, completely unfazed by the death of her Servant and by the murder-some aura coming off of Artorius.

"What makes you think Berserker is dead, Saber-chan?"

Artorius grimaced as she brought her gladius down into something of a fencing pose.

On cue, the body of Berserker stirred. Smoke rose out of his wound as his eye was regenerating instantly. He stood, completely unharmed, and roared in beastly howls which should not be possible through human vocals.

"As he is Heracles," Illyasviel began to explain with a twirl of her hair behind her back, "his Noble Phantasm grants him rejuvenation. I was impressed you could kill him. But you only took one of his lives. He has many more to spare."

This time, Artorius was the one to giggle. "One life? Then by all means you revealed to me he has a limited amount. Your inexperience will be the death of you, little one. Once again you insult me, and this I cannot tolerate. So I shall strike down your Hero until he is no more!"

With that, Artorius dove forward, kicking up dirt in her launch. Berserker let out another unholy roar as he met her like the previous session. His weapon swung around to intercept.

Artorius spun at the last second with the tip of her right foot pivoting her into a mid-air rotation. She matched the speed of his swing so the blade could not carve her, but the shockwave coming after cut her apart. Nevertheless, she was able to get into his opening.

The gladius dug hilt-deep into his chest, cutting the most important artery of the heart and then some as her blade pricked through his back.

Pulling the weapon free, she leapt away and changed the gladius into a great sword. Berserker fell to his knees as his body hunched forward, but never collapsing. Already his wound was sizzling as the flesh was repairing itself, albeit much faster than before he was struck down. She scowled at this, but held her weapon with both her hands as she took the appropriate stance.

Berserker stood and charged as soon as his revival was complete. He swung about furiously, whipping blades of wind and asphalt in his blind rage to kill Artorius. The Roman, in return, played her part in the dance. She was being pushed away from the Master and her former as Berserker was putting his everything into his strikes. But there was no new tactic, only more relentless assaults. Even if his swings were more forceful, his battle prowess was only mediocre.

She parried, used his swing to spin her around, and slashed across his abdomen.

Only, the resistance was strong enough for her blade to drag, lowering the power of her attack by a large sum. It rendered him bleeding heavily, but it wasn't lethal like how she wanted it to be.

She was almost caught off-guard. Almost. Artorius continued with the flow of battle, blocking and parrying the savage's attacks. Had she been younger, her ignorance would have been her death. That slight pause of shock at this new information would have had her split in two. But Artorius knew well than to underestimate her opponent. It was better to _over_estimate her foes and give them her iron fist than play fair. It's what had her survive throughout her career and to overcome such hidden aces like this Berserker's.

Either Berserker had stronger defenses on certain places of his body, or his body was adapting and growing stronger with each defeat onto him. Right now all it meant she will have to strike a few more times to deliver the final blow. But later, it would mean she would have to resort to more costly measures to take him down.

She smiled this time. Within the next barrage, she found her opening and took him down once more by stabbing into his wound and _dragging _her blade across his stomach. Blood and guts spilled out as he fell to his knees.

And already his body was being healed.

Her hands moved to her sides and the great sword in her grip split in two, forming a pair of serrated single-edge swords. She rushed forward, no longer waiting for him to finish healing.

As soon as Berserker was healed, she began carving into his flesh. Her smile widened as she found the resistance was that much greater. Her blades, specifically designed to splice cleanly into flesh for hunts, had barely made shallow cuts. But against softer tissue such as his ribs, sides, groin, throat, and others, the resistance was slightly lower. Oh it was there, but weaker.

After all, even the greatest of monsters were weak on their arteries and eyes.

Berserker roared and unleashed his usual barrage of mindless attacks. Her weapons would not be able to protect her as they were too small and thin. They were designed for skinning, not for this abuse. And so, Artorius was forced to nimbly dodge on her heels and toes, moving across the battlefield like a dancer as she flickered away and around his swings. Though his weapon would miss, the shockwaves would cut into her exposed skin or blur her vision. Only her experience from endless battles had kept her moving in the right direction.

She moved away, he would attack, and then she would return at his blind-spot to cut into him. He would move to avoid her and then attack again. This cycle continued until several of his main arteries were cut, drawing out heavy sums of blood. But as he was a Heroic Spirit and not bound to such mundane limitations, this hardly slowed him down.

That is, until Artorius had been able to deliver her third strike to his jugular. The shallow cuts she previously left had burst open and a spray of blood erupted from his throat. Berserker let out a gargle of outrage until he fell to his knees once more in defeat.

Four times. Artorius had killed him four times and he was healing once more. Her smile was growing at this. It was not anticipation that he will arise to become that much stronger. No, no, Artorius loathed fighting with every fiber of her being. She truly hated contests of strength and skill— especially the common 'duel' challenged to her in which only one will live.

She was smiling because with each defeat, which each death she delivered, she was _alive. _She could feel her body start to drag, start to weigh down as fatigue was slowly starting to creep its way to her muscles. That was what thrilled her. She was growing weaker as this was dragging out. She was feeling what it was like to be mortal.

If she died, she would have one more chance. Two if she truly pushed herself. But after that she will not have the ability to keep her corporeal form on this world.

She could not keep this up. Her rejuvenation was not the same as the Berserker's. It might give her a new form at the peak of its power, but she would not have as much energy to expend as she desired. With less, she would lose her control over the Dux Legionum, rendering her completely defenseless. And the Berserker was growing ever stronger. Soon, the scales will tip in his favor. And she will be crushed.

The Master of Berserker was seeing this. She gave the White Dragon a knowing smile.

Something needed to change, and fast.

Berserker roared, raised his blade, and charged.

Artorius roared in laughter as her smile split her face in half. A club formed in her hands as the mist of blood circled around her. As she engaged, it began to materialize and form into her fitting blood armor. With her dwindling strength, both weapon and armor were slowing her down considerably.

But it was protecting her from the Berserker's shockwaves. She no longer had it in her to match his abilities. The best she could do was maneuver around him and hold up her guard. On occasion she could deflect his blows, but she was no longer quick enough to provide with a counter. Berserker, on the other hand, never lost a single ounce of his mighty strength since the beginning of the brawl. His attacks continued on with the same brutality as though the prolonged battle did not little his stamina one bit.

"Sing for me, oh mad Hero!" the voice of Artorius laughed with much glee. "Beat me! Crush me! Tear me to shreds! Oh savage of my ancestors, **remind me what it means to be… mortal!**"

Her voice echoed with the same power as it had against Lancer. It was not a sound, but a presence mimicking the acoustics. It was heard within the minds of everyone present as not even the continuous sonic booms could distill it.

It was enough to make Berserker pause for a fraction of a second.

Artorius used this as her opening. She dodged the next blow, used the lag caused by Berserker's confusion to move in, and struck her club across his right knee. It shattered, forcing him down. Before he could recover and swing to intercept her, Artorius chained her move to swing her club to crash against his jaw. Heracles was forced to the side, but a hand to the ground caught him from falling down. Unfortunately, Artorius' chain wasn't done.

Still swinging around, Artorius delivered another blow to his skull. She used every ounce of her strength and a roar of fury to have her capable of wounding him. However, Berserker's skin had gained resistance to that of blades. His skin did not save him from the concussive force of a blunt object. His skull caved in by her power.

Berserker went down. But Artorius was not done. With one last howl, a cross of both rage and laughter, she brought the club in a large arch down over his head. His face caved in as it was squished, blood, eyes, and gray matter going everywhere.

Artorius gasped for air and panted. She let go of her weapon. Her armor dissolved into mist, revealing her carnivorous and bloodthirsty smile. She giggled once, turning it into a cackle, and then a large howl of laughter.

Then she turned her attention to Illyasviel.

Shirou's eyes widened. He knew all too well what was going to happen. He was moving before his mind had come to a conclusion.

With Berserker's wounds starting to sizzle and heal itself, Artorius began to move at her inhuman speeds. There had been much distance gathered since their fight, but she could cross it in a matter of seconds. It was plenty of time before Berserker could finish his rebirth.

The girls eyes went wide as they spotted the straight sword appearing in the Cheshire Servant's grip.

Artorius swung.

And stopped.

Shirou stood with his arms spread out between Illyasviel and Artorius. His eyes were wide with horror as her blade had barely been held back. But it had been last minute; her blade had cut into his collar and was drawing a fair amount of blood. He winced at the pain, but stood his ground regardless.

"W-Why?" Illyasviel's voice had been so low and quiet it hadn't been heard even by her. She almost imagined she said anything by the betrayal of her shock.

Artorius' smile vanished. Rage, close to hatred, remained in her eyes. "_Boy, _what do you think you're—"

Berserker roared with his newfound life. Without further warning, he stood and charged directly for Artorius. His large steps shaking the ground below him, his massive size shouldn't have allowed him to move so swiftly. He was closing the gap faster than Artorius could have. In what took little more than two seconds, Berserker was accomplishing in less than one.

Artorius couldn't put up a guard in time. His next blow was going to cleave through her. She should have dodged while she had the time. But if she did, then the boy would have—

A hit from behind forced her to her knees. Without thinking, Shirou tucked his body in and slammed his shoulder against her to push her away. She tried to recover, but it was too late.

Berserker swung.

Shirou Emiya did not feel a thing. He was flying the next moment. His body was spinning around in different directions through the air. And a few seconds later, he hit the ground and rolled more than he should have. When he finally stopped, he didn't know what he was looking at. Whatever was lying in the middle of the street with him was soft, pinkish, and oddly shaped. After a blink, he realized it was his stomach.

Eyes looking around, he saw the rest of his lower intestines sprawled around everywhere. In the corner of his vision he could see his mangled legs all the way towards the lamppost on the other side of the street. But his mind could not register what it meant. Oh he knew these things were his, and that they were important to his body. But he did not have the ability to understand why. With the lower half of his body gone, his spine severed, remaining insides dangling and failing, and far too much blood for his brain to properly function, he no longer possessed cognitive thought.

The world went black as the being known as Shirou Emiya died.

*Scene*

"You…" Artorius' body shook with such rage she was seeing nothing but red. Her teeth clattered, her fists could not unclench, and her body was heating up. She could not bother to pay attention to the lingering threat that was Berserker and his Master. All of her spite, hatred, fury was transferred over the dismembered boy.

"YOU IGNORANT SACK OF SHIT!" Artorius roared at the top of her lungs, startling the Einzbern Master out of her daze. "How dare you— HOW DARE YOU?! This is what happens when you play the part of the hero! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW THAT YOU'RE DEAD?!"

Her guard was completely gone. She was far too enraged to defend herself should Berserker attempt anything. Regardless, she ignored him and his Master to march all the way towards Shirou's corpse. She grabbed his hair, raised him up until she was staring at his dead stare, and shook him violently.

"ANSWER ME DAMN YOU! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW THAT YOU'RE DEAD?!"

Meanwhile, Illya did not know what to make of this. The boy she had sworn to take her vengeance upon, and had nearly succeeded at that, had stepped forward to protect her from his Servant. Not only that, but he had taken the blow meant for said Servant. She could not understand why. It did not matter anymore that he had lied about being a Master. The fact of the matter was he had defended her, who had cut him apart and promised to torture him. And now because of it, and because he chose to defend his _Servant, _he was now dead.

She couldn't understand.

"Berserker, we're leaving," all manner of playfulness was gone from Illya. She lost the drive. There wouldn't be any more fun if she were to continue. With him dead, his Servant will fade away. Probably sooner as Illya had noticed there weren't any Command Seals on him when he was alive. Her vengeance was done, regardless. Though not done in the way she wanted it to, the boy was dead.

Her mad Servant growled as his eyes lingered on Saber. She knew what he was thinking— _feeling, _rather. Berserker doesn't think; she doesn't allow him to. Saber was someone who had harmed him, took five of his lives no less. Like an animal, he wanted nothing but to kill her.

"Berserker," she pressed harder, tugging at the metaphysical leash she had on him. "We're leaving."

There was something of a gruff, followed by a snort of displeasure, before Berserker turned away. He picked up the small homunculus, placed her on his shoulder, and began to retreat at a steady pace back to the Einzbern Castle.

"…filth upon all of those saved!" Artorius continued to rant as she threw his body hard onto the ground, hearing the crunch noise of his broken skull. Her face was red and several veins were threatening to pop from her brow. She hated her _Master _for what he had done. This was why she hated Heroes. They did not care once for themselves and would rather throw their lives away for the better of someone else.

Artorius spat on Shirou's corpse, absolutely disgusted beyond any further words. Her emotions spiraled until she could no longer think straight. She hadn't even noticed when Berserker and his Master had disappeared.

The problem was, she was now without an anchor to this world. Removing all of those Command Seals meant nothing. In fact, his Commands had done nothing to alter her in any way. It was as if they were nothing but a spectacle of useless light, merely for decoration. She had been bound to him, which was why she came rushing back to his side the moment she sensed his life was in danger. From that, she knew she will be ejected from the world should he die.

And dead he was. Her attempt to save his life had been meaningless. Her struggle had been pointless. She played the part of the hero out of necessity, and look where it got her!

"Not yet," she ground out those words as though it were a struggle. Her body wasn't falling apart just yet. The World wasn't rejecting her. But soon it will. And so she would have to act fast.

She gathered his remains into one pile, wandering around the block, picking up molds of flesh and tissue and just chucking them towards the gathering point. Order didn't matter. She could not use Dux Legionum to heal him like last time. Oh, she could use it to repair his body back to fitting order, but it was beyond that power to revive him from the dead.

"Stay back," she said aloud to Nothing. To the mortal eyes, the night remained as silent as the dead. But to her, for what she truly was, and she was no Heroic Spirit, she could see the creeping, crawling, sinister shadows of the Dark come its way towards the corpse. They were coming to claim him for themselves, as they would for any mortal who was pronounced dead.

"By my authority you will stand back!"

They questioned her. Not with words. Words were a concept of the mortals. They did not speak. But they questioned her all the same.

Her corporeal form was beginning to deny her movements. She was burning more energy just to walk. She had to focus intently just to make sure she could function properly.

"It is my Right!" she argued, panting as no matter how much air she breathed in it didn't seem to be enough. Sweat drenched her while her body temperature was quickly plummeting. "I decide… who shall live… and who shall be… executed!"

With the last of the boy's organs, the heart, she threw it onto the pile. The Shadows of the Dark watched patiently. They were only Reapers, mere tax collectors of the lowest rank. Compared to them, she was something of an officer— her authority ruled over theirs ever so slightly.

She fell to her knees as her legs gave out under her. The world was spinning. It was getting harder to breathe. Her skin was chalk-white. No matter how many times she blinked, she could barely see what was before her.

"It is my Right, I so declare, in the name of My Liege, _Jus Gladii_!"

*Scene*

Never before had she felt so tired. No, she recalled a great many of times when she was under these same circumstances. The boy, this Shirou Emiya, was being carried on her back in his newly made body. Though he was much taller than her, she had no trouble balancing him. It must have been a sight to see should anyone be awake at this ungodly hour.

Several times she had to stop to gather her strength. The anchor to this world might have been recovered, but her inner energy was vastly empty. It was taking everything of her personal stamina as well as eating away at the ridiculously thin supply of energy the boy was feeding her to get her moving. Her legs wobbled with every step and she had to move with one foot in front of the other.

In what should have been thirty minutes to return to his abode took her two hours. Still, she continued to march even after she had reached his home. She kicked the door open, not giving a damn about the extra key he kept hidden for certain circumstances. From there, it took her an agonizing ten minutes to reach his room. She was about to say the hell with it and drop him off in the hallway and collapse, but her pride was keeping her going. She had been under worse stress and conquered greater feats. Something as trivial as this would be a disgrace if it defeated her, especially after coming so far.

She laid him down onto his futon, not bothering to fold back the sheets for him. And it was from there did she fall to her knees, panting and sweating in exhaustion.

Twice tonight she had to use the authority of _Jus Gladii. _The first, significantly less expensive, was placed onto herself after her defeat against the Lancer. The second was placed onto her _Master. _But because he was not recognized by her Liege, the cost had been extraordinary. It nearly depleted her to death. But he was alive, and the Reapers would not bother him again.

But it also meant from this day forth, he was under her care.

Her body was shaking from exhaustion. The supply of energy he was giving her was only enough to keep her bound to this world, never to strengthen let alone replenish. Therefore, if she were to engage in another one of these Heroes, she will not be able to use the Dux Legionum. As of this moment, she was on par to a slightly above average human. Surely any Hero could defeat her with but a flick of their finger.

She needed energy. _Immediately._

Her eyes went towards Shirou. There had only been a few minutes during his death. But it was enough to harm his soul. Even with the authority of _Jus Gladii _he will need a great deal of time to recover. Nothing would be able to wake him. Nothing.

…Desperate times, desperate measures, it would seem.

Her options limited, and as she did not have the strength to hunt on the outside, she climbed on top of the boy.

And began to remove his garments…


End file.
